Christ Episcopal Church
August 24, 2014
16 Proper A
Calculus was not the best way to start my college career. My apologies in advance to those of you who are mathematicians; the story is not pretty. My high school transcript, test scores, and advisors all indicated that I was ready for Calculus. They were all wrong. The class started off alright. I followed along well enough, learned how to work the problems, and survived the first test. As the term progressed, however, I often wondered if we were all speaking the same language. The situation was not helped by the fact that we were in a windowless basement room at 8 o'clock in the morning, but I am quite sure the material would have been equally unintelligible under more favorable conditions.
By the time we got to the final, let's just say that I really needed to do well on that particular test. Our textbook had the answers to the odd numbered problems in the back of the book, so I worked every odd numbered problem we had covered that term to prepare. Every last one of them. I was determined to conquer this exam.
When I looked at the exam on the day of the final, I honestly wondered if I was in the right place. Or maybe I had been given the exam for a different class by mistake. The questions on the exam looked nothing like the problems I had worked. The questions had more to do with theory than working problems. I knew how to work the problems, not how the problems worked. My heart sank. The result was not pretty.
The disciples are given an equally baffling test this morning. Their quiz starts out with a beginning of the term question: "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?" Jesus wants to know what other people are saying about him. That is easy. "Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets." So far, so good. The disciples can work this problem. But then, there is the follow up question. Jesus asks the disciples "Who do you say that I am?"
My guess is that a very long silence followed that question. The disciples stared at their feet, examined their fingernails, and got very interested in something on the ground, hoping that someone else would speak up. But finally, Simon looks Jesus in the eye and says "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God!" Bingo! The prize for having answered the question correctly is nothing other than a new name, the keys to the kingdom of heaven, and the assurance that the gates of Hades will not prevail. Along with the keys, Jesus tells Peter that whatever he binds on earth will be bound in heaven and whatever he loosens on earth will be loosed in heaven. That is a considerable amount of power, and the church has been arguing about that power ever since.
Shiphrah and Puah have a different kind of power this morning as we hear the story of the birth of Moses. The situation of the Hebrew people has changed dramatically since we last checked in on them last week. Last week, Joseph, the son of Jacob, grandson of Isaac, great grandson of Abraham, was ruler of Egypt. Now Joseph's people are held in oppressive and brutal slavery in that very same land. The King of Egypt is afraid that the Hebrew people will multiply, and in the event of war, join Egypt's enemies, and escape from Egypt. But the more brutal the Egyptians made the lives of the Hebrews, the faster the Hebrews multiplied. So the King orders that all Hebrew baby boys be killed. This morning, the Hebrew midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, use their power as midwives and refuse to let the Pharaoh cause the damage and destruction he desires. These two women were hardly likely candidates to stand up to power and prevent the powers of hell from prevailing. They were not politicians, royalty, or military leaders. The two midwives are two ordinary women going about the work they have been called to do, delivering babies. In the course of that very normal work, they are given the opportunity to stand up to evil, to close the gates of hell as it were, and make the kingdom of heaven a more present reality on earth.
When Jesus asks "Who do you say that I am?" I think Jesus cares just as much about the answer we give with our lives as he does the answer we give with our lips. Interestingly, as we have done the work of discerning the work God is calling us to in the next couple of years, we have found energy around our formation as Christians and around possible new outreach initiatives, shaping the answer we give to Jesus' question with our lips and with our lives. The apostle Paul calls us this morning to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, but that does not mean that our faith is a purely mental exercise. Paul tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds so that we can discern the will of God- that which is good and acceptable and perfect, and present our bodies as a living sacrifice. How are we called to use our power to close the gates of hell and make the kingdom of heaven a more present reality on earth? How do we use our lives to answer Jesus' question "Who do you say that I am?" when confronted with the evil in Iraq and Syria, Ferguson, Beavercreek, and right here in Springfield? Do we change the channel or close the webpage as I have caught myself doing time and time again when I could bear to hear no more? Or do we, like Shiphrah and Puah, find a way to use our lives, our power, to make a difference in difficult conversations about race or religion or unequal access to opportunity?
Jesus calls us to answer the question "Who do you say that I am?" not only with our lips, saying the right words, but with our lives so that our lives work to make the kingdom of heaven more present here on earth. The Christian life is not a problem to be solved correctly, but a life to be lived faithfully. The Messiah, the Son of the Living God, expected that of Peter and the disciples and he expects that of us.
Amen.
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